


Lost Knight

by meonlyred



Series: The Skyfall Legacy [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Jonas Balkar - Freeform, Lana Beniko - Freeform, Satele Shan - Freeform, some strong language, use of alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 03:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11750943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meonlyred/pseuds/meonlyred
Summary: In the five years leading up to KotFE: Theron Shan deals with the lost and search for Jedi Master Rossa and the events that inspired him to write the letter "For when you wake up."





	Lost Knight

The service was held in the Jedi wing of the Senate Tower. With its high vaulted ceiling, marble floors of burgundy and creamy brown etched with gold; the room matched the rest of the building. Warm light normally poured into the room, but not today. The lights had been turned down low to match the solemn occasion.

For more times than Satele cared to admit she had been forced to preside over a funeral of one of her younger Jedi, and this time there were no remains for them to cremate - nothing but a soft glowing holo of Master Rossa’s likeness stood to illuminate the faces of the Jedi lining the room. Rossa’s former padawan, Knight Kira was at the front, head bowed and hood pulled low. Satele had counseled Kira reminding her that her Master was not truly gone, that she was one with the Force. These ceremonies were to reflect and remember their lives. Still Satele knew that Kira cried for her Master. They had been two of a kind, sisters in a way.  

Satele recalled years ago standing with Rossa as Master Orgus’ body was committed to the pyre. She had been tearful but with a solemn resolve as she viewed her Master's body consumed by flame. Rossa had went on to exceed all of her Master's expectations, first becoming a Knight, followed by Jedi Master, then Commander of Jedi forces, and finally Jedi Battlemaster. She had triumphed over the Sith Emperor and the resurrected Revan and his enigmatic Revanites. Courageous, loyal, and inspiring she had become a shining example for the Jedi, if not for being a bit on the rebellious side. Then in one fell swoop she was lost as well. Killed by the same devastating forces that were now besieging both the Republic and Sith Empire.

In the morning Satele with a battalion of Jedi would leave Coruscant to go aid and reinforce their frontlines. The news coming in was alarming. Their shipyards and supply lines were being systematically razed. The Republic would need to commit everything they had to try and halt the swelling tide of the Eternal Empire.

Finishing the eulogy Satele took a step off the podium. A familiar shift in the Force made her pause and look through the crowd searching for his face. As she had thought, Theron stood at the edge of the crowd, obscured by the heavy shadows. Noticing she had spotted him, he turned and retreated for the door.

It took her a moment to politely excuse herself through the gathered mourners. By that time Theron was out the door halfway down the hall before she was able to catch up with him.

She called out to him, the echos of their boot heels ringing out sharply in the empty hall.

“I know,” he called over his shoulder as he marched on. His tone was angry, “no death, only the Force. It was drilled into my head.”

“Theron, a moment please,” she tried again.

This time he stopped but kept his back to her. He was angry, that much was apparent. However, there was something more, he was letting himself be angry to mask a deeper emotion from her. Something she had begun to slowly suspect. Satele hadn't failed to notice Rossa and Theron's lingering glances on Yavin IV nor that they had both mysteriously vanished the night after the battle with Revan. Satele knew these feelings all too well. Seeing Theron’s reaction now she didn't need the Force to know he carried feelings for Rossa. If she had returned those feelings, Satele would never know now.

Under different circumstances she might have tried to counsel them or at the very least spoken to Rossa. While Rossa might have heard her out, Theron had never been willing to listen to her advice about anything, relationships would be out of the questions. Now Rossa was one with the Force and Satele worried how Theron might react.

“Master Rossa was one of the best among us and I'm not just speaking about the Jedi. I'm sorry she is gone and you know how she would have wanted to be remembered.”

A slight amount of tension dropped from his shoulders and for a moment she could feel the slow wave of sorrow wearing on him.

“I know,” he said quietly before continuing down the hall.

* * *

 

Fresh air, he needed some damn fresh air. After that awkward conversation with Satele he didn't stop until he burst from the Senate Tower and onto the pedestrian overpass. Outside the starless dusk sky yawn out before him. An endless sea of skyscrapers choked the horizon. This close to the spaceport it was hard to ignore the roaring lines of traffic and thundering of ship engines. He watched as Coruscant continued its daily routine, ignorant of what was barreling towards them. Oblivious that their greatest hope had just been slain.

He dropped his head and gripped the railing. First Master Zho, now Rossa. He could count on one hand people he was close to. Now in only a matter of a few short years two of them were gone.

Since Yavin IV he had been counting the days until he was sure they were going to end their relationship. It couldn’t continue forever, not with what they both did for a living. He knew Rossa would eventually leave him to honor her vow to the Order but this was not the way he wanted to say goodbye.

They had been together just before she left to join Marr’s fleet. If he closed his eyes he could still remember her farewell kiss. Soft, almost delicate like a tiny promise she would be back to fill the rest of their need. But she wasn't coming back this time.

His cybernetic implant gave a soft chime letting him now he had a message waiting for him. For a moment he considered ignoring it, but then thought better of it, not with the Eternal Empire attacking the Republic. At the very least work might allow him to focus on something else.

He checked his datapad. The message was encrypted, which was curious but not out of the ordinary. Per MO he ran it through the SIS decoder. Unsuccessful. Odd.

A hunch made him run it through the code Lana and he had used on Rishi. It worked.

 _Find a secure line. Urgent_ , is all it said.

 

It took him almost an hour to get back to his apartment, traffic on Coruscant being as it was. It was hardly the most secure line, but it was the easiest he could get to without raising questions.

A moment later Lana’s imagine appeared in holo.

“Is this line secure?” she asked.

Annoyed, Theron snapped at her, “As secure as it can be. Look Lana if you wanted to express your sympathies you could have just sent flowers.”

“I believe sympathies might be a bit premature.” Lana Beniko never passed up the chance to be cryptic.

She wasn’t going to voluntarily explain what she meant, she was waiting for him to bite. He had half a mind to disconnect, he wasn’t in the mood for games. Going to a funeral of a lover will do that to you.

But she wouldn’t have risked calling him if it wasn't important. Begrudgingly he took the bait, “What do you mean?”  
“I have on very good authority that Master Rossa isn’t dead. I have reliable information from within the Eternal Empire that she was captured,” Lana explained.

She was lying, was his first thought, but then what reason would she have to lie about something like that? Lana was a lot of things but she wouldn’t call to taunt him or give him false hope. Not about Rossa. Even the Sith Lord had counted her among her friends. It wasn’t her style. Which meant it was true or at least she believed it to be true.

“Tell me everything,” he said and braced himself for more bad news.

* * *

 

“Fuck, Theron, you look like hell. When was the last time you slept?” Jonas Balkar had a knack for being glib but it was saying something if he could tell how worn he looked over the blue filter of the holoprojector.

One year and three months had passed since Zakuul’s claims the assassination of their Immortal Emperor was at the hands of Master Rossa. Five months since the Republic and Sith Empire had surrendered to Emperor Arcann. One month since Theron resigned from the SIS. And twenty-six hours since Theron had last slept.

He partially had been working with Lana but mostly he had been on his own. There was a part of him that kind of enjoyed it. He was his own agent: no red tape, no bureaucrats, no director, and no Saresh. Just him doing what he was best at. However, it also meant that he didn't have an agency worth of people to back him up. Minimal resources and few contacts still willing to talk to him. There wasn’t a burn notice out on him but it damn well might have been. He had been lucky to get Jonas to help him out. Though sometimes he wondered if Jonas just wanted to see if he would flounder.

“The report?” Theron flatly refused to engage him about his appearance.

Through the holo Jonas hit a few keys on his end. “I see retirement hasn't made you any less grumpy.”

An alert popped up on Theron’s console indicating he had received the message.

“You know,” Jonas continued playing at being coy, “there is some talk around the agency...”

Theron didn't turn his attention back to him. Instead his eyes were on his monitor opening and decoding Jonas’ file.

“I don't want to know.” Even to himself his tone sounded curt.

He heard Jonas sigh from the other end, “Just tell me this isn't about a girl.”

Heat rushed through him from head to toe, he shot a hard look back to the holoprojection. “This isn't about a girl. You saw for yourself what Zakuul has done.”

The Eternal Empire had gutted the Republic. Their shipyards were gone, supply lines were nonexistent, the limited arms agreement had crippled them, and the Jedi Order was all but wiped out. Even Satele was missing. Theron didn't believe she was dead but she hadn't answered the message he had sent over a month ago. As for the state of the Empire, he couldn't be sure how bad they had been hit. Intel at this point was sketchy at best. But from what Lana had told him they weren't doing much better.

Jonas’ hands went up defensively, “Alright, alright. Cool your jets. Yeah, things are bad. Forget I said anything. You just made everyone wonder. A young, pretty Jedi with a reputation for thinking outside the Code shows up. You worked with her on a tropical paradise for a while. Then you up and quit the agency just like that when we stopped focusing on Zakuul. I just want to know that I'm not risking my career because you want some revenge against the people that got the girl you were smittened with,” Jonas finished.

“I had hoped you'd risk your career to save the Republic,” Theron snapped back. “If you don't like it, I can talk to someone else. I remember Deena Riss wasn't happy about the surrender either.”

“Okay, I get it. You're as cold as a rancor on Hoth. Don't worry then, I'll just delete that security recording from the Carrick Station office.” Jonas smirked when he saw the shock on Theron’s face.

After Ziost, Theron and Rossa had met in the SIS office on Carrick Station. They had talked, she had asked him out for a drink, he had kissed her. It took Theron too long to remember any security recordings from that room would be above Jonas’ paygrade.

“You're lying,” he tried to even out his expression but it was too late, he had walked straight into it.

“Of course I am,” he said, entirely too pleased with himself. There were times when Jonas was a better spy than Theron gave him credit for, and this was one of them. Though it was useless information other than to be juvenile and tease him. “You and a Jedi. I did not see that one coming.”

Jonas gave him a casual salute and ended the call. Theron thought for a moment of giving him a one finger salute of his own but thought better of it. He had gotten him this intel after all. The files Jonas had sent him had not been easy to get a hold of. It had taken several favors and a sum of lies, bribes, and a few threats, but finally Theron had it in his hands. An inventory list of the Eternal Spire’s vault: the personal collection of Emperor Arcann. Trophies, art, armor, weapons, anything the young emperor had placed value in. Theron had a wild hunch that inside that vault was something more priceless than all the rest of that wealth combined. The carbonite tomb of Jedi Master Rossa Skyfall.

He knew from Lana’s intel that when Rossa had been captured she had been incased, but there was nothing about where she had gone from there. This was their last chance. Theron had made searches of every prison and slave camp under the Eternal Empire’s control. He had managed to secure prison rosters, eye witness accounts, anything that would even remotely hint at Rossa’s whereabouts. Time and time again he had came up empty handed. Fortunately, it had gained him bargaining chips. Both the Republic and Empire were interested in the information he had gathered. For many of the prisons he had names of the POWs from both sides.

Which led him back to Jonas. They had worked together in the SIS. Theron would never say that Jonas wasn’t good at his job, he was just a bit of an ass sometimes. On good days Theron might even admit they were friends. And if this vault manifest panned out, Theron would owe him more than he could ever repay.

Of course, it wasn't going to be easy. The manifest wasn’t labeled with a “one carbonite frozen Jedi Master.” It was mostly a mess of information in no particular order. Not to mention this was all a wild theory anyways. She might not even be there.

Luckily he already had algorithms coded to help him search. It could take it several minutes or several hours to scan. Plucking a bottle of Corellian whiskey and a glass from the nearby shelf he poured himself a finger’s worth. Jonas’ words rang in his ears as he shot back the whiskey. Yes, of course, he was doing this for more than just Rossa. To the side of his desk was a holoprojector that he flipped on. A tiny image of Rossa appeared. Yet, he'd be lying to himself if he said that she wasn't a big part of the reason he was doing this. She deserved better than an eternity as a prisoner of a mad emperor.

He downed another shot of whiskey. That holo was all he had of her, it had been taken from her dossier. The same dossier he had reviewed years ago for the mission that started all of this. Colonel Darok- before he had shown himself to be a Revanite traitor- had tasked him with selecting a strike team to spearhead the assault on Korriban. There were hundreds of worthy candidates, but Theron had found himself coming back to Rossa’s dossier. Theron had reviewed her file extensively; she had been a bit of the ace up the Jedi's sleeve. Young among far more veteran Jedi in her rank, not quite a prodigy but skilled and set apart from her peers. Not to mention a bit reckless and poised for action instead of debate. Luckily, she had the skills to back it up, there were few duelists in her league. The dossier had called her bold. Theron liked bold. She was after all the Jedi who had led a small strike team into the Empire’s capital, Dromund Kaas, on a tactical decapitation mission to take out the Sith Emperor. For the first time, as it turned out.

Theron could almost hear Master Zho’s voice in his ear telling him it was the Force that led him to her. And Jonas would have told him it was because of those big round eyes.

Pouring another finger of whiskey he swirled it in the glass. Over a year had past since he saw Rossa last and he realized he missed her more than he thought he would. She had been frustrating sometimes with her idealistic sense of honor, part of her Jedi upbringing, no doubt. But she had also been spunky and quick witted, very much not part of that upbringing. Her skillset brought more to the table than he could ever ask for. Jedi Sentinels always mixed well with personnel outside the Order. Rossa was a prime example of that. Not heavy handed with Jedi philosophies and platitudes, nor the rigid blunt force of other Jedi. Rossa had been more subtle in her actions. She could lie, pick locks, hack, and be discreet when she needed to be. Compounded with Force abilities, that was nothing to yawn about.

The flirting had certainly gone farther than he thought it would. And the sex had been a welcome distraction. Something he thought both of them had needed.

He raised the drink to his lips and stared at the mini imagine of Rossa.

Stars, he wished she was here now. He had begun to realize he was forgetting things about her, the smell of her hair, the exact color of her eyes, the gentleness of her touch. They didn't have the years of a committed relationship with which to build lasting memories, only some mutual flirting followed by a few fleeting romantic rendezvous.

Another shot reminded him that he never told her how much she meant to him. Another after that inspired him to write something to her. Something for when she woke up. He began to type.

Sometime later Theron interlaced his fingers together and stared at his screen. He had lost count how many times he had drafted this letter only to erase it and start over. The first had been too emotional. His words had reflected his raw state. Regardless if she would ever read this didn’t matter, he couldn’t bring himself to pour it all out to her. He had to sit back and gather his emotions. After a full twenty minutes of pacing and taking swigs of the almost empty bottle did he sit back now to write again. This time it turned out to be too impersonal. He owed her much more than that. She had risked her reputation in the Jedi Order every time they were together.

Again and again he tried but the words never came out right. What do you even say to someone in the position they were in? Theron was pretty sure they could be counted in a fairly unique relationship status and he wasn’t good at them to begin with.

Running his fingers through his dark hair he stared at the ceiling of his safe house. Finding no answers there he tried again.

_I’ve written this message twice now. Okay, more than twice. Kinda weird writing something that may never be read. Lana says you’re locked in carbonite, but alive. (Yeah, we’re in touch. Long story.) I like to think you’re having one crazy dream. And maybe I’m in it. But I don’t want to presume. We never really declared what this--you and me--is… was… Have I mentioned I’m bad at relationships? Another reason I’m a workaholic_

_I’m rambling. The point I’m trying to make is--whatever’s between us, I want you to know that I care about you. A lot. The whole galaxy’s lost its mind. The thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that you’re out there, and we’re putting together a plan to rescue you. I might not be there--we’ve all got our parts to play--but I haven’t forgotten about you or our time together. I never will._

He didn’t even stop to proof read it, just hit send. Come what may, this was what she would find waiting for her when or if Lana got her out. He leaned back in his chair.  Regardless of how she felt about him, he hoped that she would get the chance to read it. It was all that was keeping him going at this point.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to post this before the next patch comes out. I may add a final part for it later but for now, I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
